Dark of Night
by RunsWithScizors
Summary: Teenage Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls, just to see how things had changed in the past three years. Then they discover that an army of vampires is closing in on the town, preparing to take it for their own. Now it's up to them and a team of reluctant allies to save the helpless citizens, and perhaps have fun along the way. Of course. (Dipifica. Not intentionally serious)
1. Welcome Back

**My sister and I usually do Pokemon fanfics together, but she wanted to do something else, and we put this team effort here for reasons we don't have to explain. We were planning this for months, but only now did it go beyond its rough draft stage. This is an AU and we know it, as it completely ignores the credits scene in "The Stanchurian Candidate" and anything that may happen after.**

 **WARNINGS: This story contains fan characters, one-sided romance with fan characters (not from the REAL characters' side, don't worry about that) and fan characters being giant bags of jerk. The first chapter was even written during the hiatus after "Not What He Seems," and editing was rushed. Next chapter will improve.**

In the lives of most fifteen-year-old twins, summer would be spent hanging out with friends by the pool, attempting to push the other into said pool when the lifeguards weren't looking, and bonding over crushes even if they're a mixed-gender pair. For Dipper and Mabel Pines, such things were boring.

"We had a really great time up there," Mabel was saying, looking hopefully at her parents. "It's the only time I've ever seen Dipper so happy to be outside! I met lots of cute boys, he spent all summer chasing 'imaginary' monsters, we had fun!"

Mrs. Pines noticed her daughter's finger-quotes around the word imaginary, and seized it tightly. "Why did you put air quotes in your sentence, Mabel?"

Mabel smiled innocently. "I put quotation marks around lots of stuff," she replied, putting in as much sweetness as she could manage without arousing further suspicion. "Like the time I said that Waddles 'ate' the couch cushions."

"The pig did eat the couch cushions," her father corrected.

"And what conclusion can you draw from that?"

Dipper had to hand it to her, she'd become a master at creative truth-telling. She didn't like to lie, but now, she never needed to. A few missing details, a distracting word or phrase, and conclusions were quickly jumped to. It was a really impressive talent.

He cut in before his father could object. "And we have to see how Ford's been adjusting after thirty years in...wherever he ended up. I'm still not sure where that was."

Mr. Pines considered. His kids were intelligent, certainly capable of taking care of themselves, even if Mabel was a bit off at times. And they did have very capable adults in Gravity Falls, mixed in with all of the, shall we say, beings of lesser intelligence. "I thought I told you last time, you had to say goodbye to your 'grunkles' forever."

"We're teenagers now," Dipper reminded him. "Three years _feels_ like forever."

Mabel, who had unfortunately been drinking something as he said it, squeezed her bottle of flavored water a bit too tightly and was punished for it. Starting with getting splashed up the nose, the liquid soon began dripping down her chin as she broke down laughing. Her mother was right behind her.

"Why not?" Mrs. Pines finally decided. "It's not like they haven't seen crazy stuff before."

And so it was that the twins packed up to spend another summer up in Gravity Falls.

* * *

Their parents dropped them off at the Mystery Shack only a week later, where the first person they saw was Stan, who seemed to be going in for the big con. The victim, a pale, slightly chubby man with brown hair, didn't seem to be more than mildly interested, while a woman and teenage boy lurked around the gift shop themselves.

"Almost got him," was the first thing Stan said to Mrs. Pines instead of a hello. Mrs. Pines rolled her eyes and prodded her husband forward.

"Stan," Dipper and Mabel's father started. "I love my children, but they're your problem now. You and...Ford...promised to look after them again."

Three years later and he still hadn't gotten used to the name switch, it seemed. Well, thirty years of thinking the real Stanley was dead would do that.

"Yeah, I remember. Where are they, anyway?" Mabel waved from behind her mother. Stan did a double take, not noticing that the man got away in his confusion. "Wait a minute, this is them? They're so tall!"

"Nice to see you, too, Stan," Dipper said, struggling not to join his mother in the eye rolling.

"And when did he start sounding like an actual guy?" Stan poked his great-nephew with his cane. "You get muscle yet, Dipper?"

Dipper tried not to let his embarrassment show. He'd made it known in school that he'd rather sit and read then play sports, and what had happened when he caved in and tried to join the boy's basketball team wasn't something mentioned in the Pines house, ever. Mabel still wasn't sure how he managed to hurt himself in the face by throwing a ball, but she'd agreed that Dipper was a mystery himself.

"I'm working on it," Dipper finally said.

Stan turned on Mabel. "What about you? Your parents told me you were trying to start some kind of business?"

"Yes." While her brother had decided to throw himself into his detective stories, Mabel had taken to 'branching out' in her strange fashion choices, buying clothes in thrift stores and altering them, and attempting to sell her creations on the internet. At the moment, she was wearing a rainbow dress held up by shiny purple ribbons, which had been white and strapless when she'd found it.

"Good. If you need any tips, you know where to find me."

Mabel knew him well enough to know that asking him for advice was a bad idea, but she bit back the response to that and replaced it with, "Sure, Grunkle Stan."

"Excuse me, sir!" the man called. "You were going to show me some amulets that were supposed to protect me from evil?"

"Oh, right." Stan adjusted his hat and returned to his con. "Now, over here, we've got the general objects - curse deflectors, vampire detectors..."

The twins watched him go, Dipper shaking his head slowly and Mabel trying to get a look at the teenage boy's face.

"Seriously, though," she said, "I wonder if Ford and Stan would let me design some merchandise."

"Where is Ford?" Dipper wondered out loud. "I knew he finally gave in and let Stan use his house, but you'd think he'd be keeping an eye on him..."

"The Other Mr. Pines is down in the lab, dudes," Soos's voice said, and the twins immediately turned for a high-five. "He's got some kind of device down there that he found washed up at the beach."

"I'm going to help him out," Dipper said immediately. "Can you handle whatever Stan asks you on your own?"

"There's a guy here!" was the only response Mabel had to that. Dipper took it as a yes.

* * *

Upon sending Dipper and Mabel home the first time, the real Stanford Pines had somehow been convinced that Soos was incapable of holding any other job, and now reluctantly allowed Stan to keep operating the Mystery Shack for the "gopher man's" sake. He even occasionally played the eccentric scientist that backed up everything Mr. Mystery said, though he preferred to be the one keeping the real monsters away from the tourists. He'd even somewhat repaired his friendship with McGucket, though for some reason the former mechanic had _fun_ embracing his reputation as a loony old hillbilly. It was generally accepted by those that were in on the secret that once the town kook put on his glasses, he ceased to be Old Man McGucket and immediately switched back to Fiddleford - which was usually considered a bad omen, aside from the occasional serious discussions in the basement lab of the Mystery Shack.

Discussions like the one Dipper had currently walked right in on.

"Did we even come across one before?" McGucket was saying, picking at the bandage that was still stuck to his beard. "We know of their existence, but not how to stop an invasion."

"You'll yank your hair off," Ford said, smacking the hand away. "I'm sure we have notes somewhere."

"I haven't seen that machine before, or I'd know what we were doing."

"What machine?" Dipper offered, and both men nearly fell out of their chairs at the shock of the new voice coming from what was thought to be a locked lab.

"I thought you shut that thing behind you," Dipper heard Ford spit from between clenched teeth.

McGucket held up his hands, before lowering them in another attempt to remove the unnecessary bandage from his facial hair.

The six-fingered man turned to face the boy, welcoming but a little unsure. "I thought you and your sister wouldn't be coming until next week."

"You got your calendar wrong." Dipper squeezed past him and tried looking for the device. "Do you guys have any leads?"

"One," McGucket said shortly. "It was made before internet. Maybe before Ben Franklin discovered electricity...or am I mixing him up with Newton again?"

Both Pines men left him to his thoughts and half-crazed ramblings, aware that they wouldn't get anywhere with him for the next half hour. Ford handed a small item to the boy, who turned it around in his hands for a few moments.

"Dipper, the closest thing we have is that it was most likely powered by black magic. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the two things that aren't supposed to be mixed under _any_ circumstances are black magic and mad science. I honestly can not stress that enough."

"You don't go casting random spells you read on trees just to see what they do," McGucket added, as if that made sense.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Ford chuckled as McGucket fell silent, muttering something about it being personal.

"Back on topic," Dipper interrupted, "what even makes you think that it's even a machine?"

And that was how Dipper got way over his head in theories.

* * *

Two days later found Dipper at the counter just before closing, where a tall, thin man was investigating something that Stan called 'vampire detectors,' which of course were just compact mirrors with the Mystery Shack sign painted on the back. He seemed to be looking for a more 'manly' version.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Dipper asked, and the man turned.

"These vampire detectors," he said, gesturing at the mirrors. "Are you sure they actually work?"

"Wait, what?" This man was actually thinking that some junk from a gift shop actually worked? "Um, I mean, I've never really used them, so I can't make recommendations. I don't think my great-uncles would mind the extra cash, if you want to figure it out for yourself. How many do you need?"

"I wasn't saying I wanted to buy one. I was just looking them over."

Dipper tried to look the man in the eyes, but he had to look away quickly. The stare was making him uncomfortable, and he knew instinctively that continuing the conversation was a bad idea.

The sound of footsteps came to his rescue, and Mabel slid into view with a flashlight in her hand. She was clearly on a mission, and, just as instinctively, both Dipper and the dark-haired man knew they did not want to get involved with that, either.

Mabel refused to let her brother get out of it. "Hey Dipper, does this flashlight seem too bright to you?" She shifted the flashlight in her hand, drawing their attention, and turned it on with no further warning. It was too bright, and Dipper was sure he'd be seeing purple spots for days. The man had a much, much better reaction.

Without warning, he bared his teeth, showing sharp, pointed fangs. His eyes narrowed, he threw his arm up in self-defense, and he made a sound that could only be described as a hiss before Mabel clicked it off, triumphant

"You _are_ a vampire!" she declared, waving the light at him. The man straightened, looking vaguely ashamed. "I knew it!"

"What even...?" The man, the _vampire,_ regained his composure, staring at Mabel in complete horror. "How in the name of Walt Disney did you manage to figure it out when I've never even _seen_ you before?"

"I've seen you," she said creepily, almost singing the words. "I went monster hunting with my friends Candy and Grenda last night. Well, we weren't hunting anything _,_ really, more like making sure everything is the same as I remember it. We were out by the mayor's house, heard a weird noise, Candy pulled out her compact mirror to check for that hide-behind thing, and you don't show up even though you're there when we turn around."

The vampire stopped, whatever he was about to say already dead on his tongue. Then, defeated, he threw his hands up in a gesture of 'Forget this, I'm done.' "Yes, the... _mayor."_ He pronounced the word with an unidentified distaste, but didn't elaborate. "You seem to be aware of Gravity Falls and its inhabitants. I moved here because I've heard of it myself, though I'll admit the lack of blood banks around here is appalling."

"You could always move back to wherever you came from," Mabel suggested. "Or just live on animals. I'd be disappointed, though, I think vampires are cool."

The man faked surprise. "Cool?" he repeated. "Most girls your age find my kind 'hot,' or some nonsense like that."

"Don't kid yourself. You're not that cute."

The vampire cleared his throat, apparently trying to remain intimidating. "I think I like this one," he said to himself as he returned to his search.

Dipper pulled Mabel aside. "Why are you _bonding_ with him, Mabel?"

"Because he's hungry but he hasn't hurt me." She shrugged. "It's in their eyes. His are a really pretty browny-hazel, but they have a little bit of a red circle around the pupil, meaning, well, thirst. Clearly a diet of stolen donated blood, but reluctant to drink from live humans." Dipper didn't say anything, prompting a laugh. "What, it wasn't in the nerd books? I met a few vampires the last time we were here, remember? I know the signs to look out for."

"So you're making friends with this guy?"

"Of course," Mabel said, tucking the flashlight away in the pocket of her shorts, where it protruded rather blatantly. "It's better to have supernatural creatures as friends instead of enemies. Besides, I'm an excellent judge of character." She cringed as a flashback to her first encounter with Gideon Gleeful pushed itself through her mind. "You know what, keep garlic by the windows and doors. Just in case."

The door to the basement opened, then, and Ford's head poked out. He looked around, spotted their guest, and without further warning, invited him and the twins down for an interview.

* * *

Ford had figured out the vampire's identity weeks earlier, and had gotten him to promise to come and visit the Mystery Shack, strictly for Science's benefit. He'd agreed, and returned at the assigned time. He was digging through the merchandise because he was waiting for the old man.

"I've never had a chance to interview a vampire before, Dave," Ford said, and it took the twins a while to place the name to the face. Their accomplice was Dave, apparently. "I've only been able to observe from a distance."

"We're more intelligent than gnomes," Dave said casually, leaning back in the chair that he'd been given. "We keep to ourselves and try to blend in with humanity's nightlife, taking night shifts wherever we can."

"I got that part," Ford cut in, tapping Journal #2. "You weren't here three years ago. What brought you to Gravity Falls?"

"Safety measures," Dave replied at once. "I'm far from the first of my kind to travel here, just as you're far from the last of your kind who would come to investigate." He paused, considering something. "I'm sorry, was that racist?"

"I didn't think so," Ford promised. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight, more or less."

"How much more?" Mabel asked, taking her turn at asking the questions.

Dave pretended to think. "I honestly lost track after the first few weeks. Are we done?"

"Not even close." At least Ford was honest. "Do you mind if I attach probes to your head to study your brain?"

"Is that seriously how you study the supernatural? I'm appalled, Dr. Pines. Your degree should be revoked."

Mabel giggled. Dipper had to smile himself.

"The side-effects won't be permanent." Was that the great Stanford Pines, begging?

"I'm afraid my answer is still a no," Dave said, and slowly got to his feet. "I would be swirling my cape dramatically, but it seems I've left it at home."

"Are all vampires this sarcastic?" Dipper asked, stopping Dave before he could reach the knob.

"Only with humans," was the only answer they got.

Ford moved fast for an old man, and blocked the door before Dave could leave. "You sit right back in that chair, young man," he warned. "I'm going to need you to tell me and my niece and nephew about vampires, so we'll know how to defend ourselves against more like you."

This time, Dave actually listened. He slowly walked back to the chair, taking a seat.

"Vampires don't give out our secrets easily," he started. "Only newbloods - that is, former humans in their first six years as vampires - get the answers they seek. Those that claim to be Slayers learned our secrets long ago, or from fictional stories of those who did. Dracula? Real guy, though not quite as long-lived as the adaptations would have you believe. He wasn't the best role model for young vampires, but several looked up to him."

"I thought you said you were only twenty-eight."

"I am. But my ancestor was around at the time, and that kind of got passed down."

"Your ancestor?" Dipper asked, and Dave laughed.

"We all come from somewhere, kid, and just because we can't have children with humans...well, we form families anyway. Safety in numbers and everything." He paused again, thinking it over. "I wouldn't mind being a father, actually. Though not the diapers, I'd probably leave that part to the kid's mother."

"Focus, Dave," Mabel said shortly, and their vampire accomplice just gave her the most innocent look he could manage.

"Any more questions?"

Ford skipped right to the end, knowing it was probably best if they just let Dave go on with his life and found another good vampire. They didn't seem to be going anywhere, anyway. "Do you have an explanation for the lack of reflections?"

"Silver is magical. It hurts werewolves in their wolf form, traps ghosts, absorbs and multiplies spells. Why shouldn't it reveal us for what we are?" He nodded toward Mabel. "Like your friend's compact mirror, or your other great-uncle's little trick with the mirror up there for the tourists."

"I knew the part about silver, but I never expected that it was the metal itself and not a vampire quality." The old nerd broke out a new book, this one not marked with his trademark six-fingered hand, and wrote down that interesting fact. "Are there any methods of self-defense? How to tell if a vampire is planning to hurt you?"

Dipper grew slightly uncomfortable, but Mabel and Ford both leaned forward, eager for more knowledge on the vampire species. Dave didn't think anything was wrong with that.

"Keep garlic in your pocket, just in case. It smells repulsive to _humans_ , how do you think it comes across to those who die if they ingest it?" Seeing the looks on their faces, clearly trying to decide if he was just throwing more sarcasm out there, he suddenly turned serious. "I mean it. Keep garlic in your pockets. It won't ward off someone hungry enough to attack, unless you can get it in their mouth, but it will make most think twice before messing with you for the sake of messing with you. Just a bit of advice from your friendly neighborhood blood-drinker."

Pleased with the results, which consisted of three humans attempting to figure out why he told them only things that they already knew, he actually made it out of the room this time, promising to see them again.

"Well," Mabel finally said, "we learned almost nothing."

"Except for his name and that he's born to be a politician," Dipper added.

"Do you think he's even allowed? Being a vampire and all?"

"That might explain why he's so against the mayor, actually..."

Ford wasn't listening to the younger pair of Pines twins. Dave had an ulterior motive, and he knew it. But what _was_ it?

* * *

"You're going to start investigating vampires as a species, aren't you?"

It was nearing two in the morning, but neither twin could sleep. Instead, they had been in the living room for hours, the television on but neither watching it. Mabel was stitching what appeared to be two men's neckties together, and Dipper was pretending to read a book.

"I wasn't thinking about it."

Mabel clicked her tongue. "Dipper, Dave might not kill people, but he's not helpful, either. What did he say that makes you think he wants you to get involved?"

Dipper closed the book and stared at the ceiling, thinking it over. It was entirely possible that Dave had given them the garlic advice in order to prevent himself from attacking the humans he clearly tolerated, or liked in Mabel's case. He'd apparently been living here for at least a full year, and nobody had turned up dead. Surviving on stolen donations and forest animals might be enough for _him_ , but if vampires formed families, why was the species so rare? Did they attack each other for resources, or was there an internal civil war, or something?

That settled it. Dipper was going to investigate vampires this summer, and with his crush on Wendy long gone, he was positive that there was nothing that could distract him. And who knows? Maybe Ford would end up letting him write a journal...


	2. The Werewolf

**You know when I said that there would be one-sided romance with fan characters?** **This is the only chapter where it's relevant. Don't worry, the character's main purpose is to make Twilight jokes.**

The mystery of the vampire species was wrapping around Dipper's head, and he knew he wouldn't be able to face Dave again until he had answers - and whether or not he faced Dave armed with a stake would be an excellent question, too. He and Mabel wound up in the library, after coming to an agreement that there would be an answer in a book or online.

"Why do you need to use the library computer?" Mabel asked as she followed her brother through the 'horror' section. "I thought you had a laptop."

Dipper held up his computer bag and pulled out a messed up metal box. "I did," Dipper told his sister, "until Ford borrowed it." He opened the metal piece of junk to reveal a charred keyboard and a sheet covering the screen.

"So why didn't you ask McGucket to fix it?"

Dipper took off the sheet to show the cracked screen, with a big question mark drawn on the side. "He didn't understand how modern computers work without building them himself, I guess."

Mabel cringed, but decided against arguing. "Then I guess we're doing research the old-fashioned way," she admitted. "You do the internet stuff, I'll find books."

"Why can't I find the books?"

"Because I'll just end up on some other website and not paying attention to vampires at all." She shrugged. "I'm over that phase, why would I remember to look stuff up properly?"

Twenty minutes later, Mabel struggled to keep from dropping the stack of books she had found. Grumbling about how Dipper should have dragged "stupid old six-fingers" into this obsessive project (and forgetting that Ford was currently attempting to get more information out of Dave) and how it wasn't fair that she was trapped in a library when she was originally planning to make a purse out of old neckties, it wasn't long before she bumped into someone.

The books fell from her arms, as did those the boy had chosen. As they both scrambled, apologizing together and attempting to pick up their own stacks, their hands touched briefly.

 _His hands are warm,_ Mabel thought to herself, as she quickly pulled away to look at the boy's face. She immediately decided that he was not particularly attractive, but not entirely ugly, either.

Gray eyes staring from behind black-framed glasses, a round, pale face, and even less muscular than Dipper. Not her type, but not the worst.

The boy picked up one of the many vampire books, and held it out to her. "You seem to be really interested in vampires," he noted. "Is it because of that new movie coming out next week?"

"Um...no, not really." She brushed her hair over her shoulder, hoping it would go unnoticed. "It's for my brother and great-uncle. They're paranormal investigators, and I got dragged in, I guess."

"Paranormal investigators?" the boy repeated, tilting his head like a confused dog. "I thought they focused on ghosts."

"Usually," Mabel said, rolling her eyes. "But Grunkle Ford decided ghosts were kid stuff and Dipper's been following in his footsteps since we were twelve."

"And you're letting your brother and great-uncle go up against vampires?"

"They won't listen when we try to tell them otherwise. Some guy in town got them interested, and now they're on the hunt."

The boy smiled a little, and picked up a few of her spilled books. "I'd like to help. My name's Phil."

Mabel grinned. "Mine's Mabel. Sorry if I don't stay," she added, gesturing down at the enormous stack in her arms. "My brother's waiting for me to get back."

Phil looked at the titles again. "And does he know you're giving him a stack of young adult romance novels?" he asked, almost regretting it as soon as he said it.

Mabel laughed, the loud sound not bothering to get shushed by the nearly-empty library. "He'll know better than to trust me with serious research after this, right?"

And, with that, the hushed conversation ended.

* * *

"Why isn't this working?" Dipper complained under his breath, clicking through yet another useless page. He'd typed 'vampire information' into the search, and got results ranging from Halloween costumes all the way down to an animated character from a show with a shape-shifting dog. All of it boring, none of it relevant.

That's what he got for trusting Dave. He'd probably refused to give up vampire secrets just to give them more headaches.

"Hey, Dippin' Dots!" Mabel hissed in his ear, causing him to squeak in unmanly surprise as he spun around.

"Don't do that!" he hissed back. "It isn't funny, and I could have died!"

"Sorry." Mabel dropped the book stack onto the table next to him. "Here's the books you wanted me to get. This was the best I could do, and let's face it, I'm surprised this town even has a library this well-stocked."

Remembering all too well the average sanity levels of the townspeople, Dipper had to agree, but that didn't mean he had to accept whatever his twin had brought him. "Girly young adult romance novels, Mabel?"

"Like I said, the best I could do." Mabel grabbed one of them off the top of the pile. "And unless you can find information on real vampires through your magic picture box, these are the best we've got."

Dipper grumbled but switched off the computer, turning his attention to the pile of monstrosities in front of him. "Well, I guess this isn't completely useless," he admitted. "All myths have to have some kind of truth, right?"

Mabel agreed, but it was at that moment that she got the strangest feeling that she was being watched. Turning around, preparing herself for a repeat of the gnome incident, all she found was Phil, who gave her an innocent smile and returned to reading something about space. She couldn't see the title from this distance. It was probably nothing.

She'd still have to ask if she could borrow a certain six-fingered electrical glove. Just in case.

* * *

Pacifica Northwest woke up at dawn the next morning, and for once, she realized she had nowhere else to be.

Her parents were gone, but they had left a note saying exactly what they expected to hear she'd been doing. This was her favorite kind of day, the ones where she could make a brief appearance around town and put in just enough effort to let people know she hadn't died.

Even though she had nowhere she was supposed to be, she knew at once where she'd end up going. Mr. Pines and Mr. Pines were always begging to be mocked, and they both flung insults right back at her, not caring one bit who she was or how easily she could buy them off. It was almost refreshing, and it sure was fun to pick on a pair of old men. Of course, hearing that Dipper and Mabel were back in town was always another opportunity.

She'd never let the twins know she'd missed them, of course. Pretending to be just investigating rumors of their return would be her first course of action, followed by seeing exactly how much they'd changed...call Dipper a nerd, maybe tease Mabel...

Or, she thought, burying herself even deeper under her thick pink blanket, she could just give it another half hour.

When she walked into the Mystery Shack six hours later, she was surprised to find that she wasn't the only visitor. There was a boy with glasses standing by the door, clearly worrying about if he should go in. He must have been new here.

"I know the owners of the place," Pacifica said at once, before she could stop herself. "The old geezer behind the gift shop will probably charge you more for loitering than he would for any of his merchandise, and his brother's working on combustible lemons or something stupid like that in order to keep potential thieves off of the property. I'd bail if I were you."

"That _is_ a stupid idea," Stanford's voice said from behind her, and the boy looked a bit surprised when he counted twelve fingers on the man's hands. "The dumbest you've ever had. I'm vampire hunting, Northwest. That's much more important."

Pacifica didn't flinch. "Whatever. I'll just have to pay some engineers to make them for me, so I can burn this eyesore to the ground."

The old man seemed to be used to such blatant disrespect for the place, which cemented something in the boy's mind. "You wouldn't be one of the owners of this place, would you?" he asked, and Ford stopped listening to Pacifica's suggestion of combustible garlic.

"What's it to you?"

"Um, I was told that Mabel was here...?"

Pacifica and Ford were suddenly unaware of the other's presence, too caught up in their own shock. Pacifica's thoughts were _Mabel has a boyfriend now?_ Ford's were closer to _Wait, **this** is Mabel's type?_

Ford recovered first. "Stan has her working the register today, but that means nothing. Go in and buy something, he'll let you talk to her then."

The boy didn't waste a moment, disappearing into the Mystery Shack. Pacifica looked up at Ford.

"We're going to spy on him, right?"

He shushed her and slowly opened the door to the Shack, letting Pacifica duck under his arm to get the best view. There was the boy, looking around at the Shack's collection of oddities, and behind the counter was Mabel, sketching something out on a spare piece of paper. Finding a rock that looked vaguely like the Bat-Signal, he checked for his wallet and headed for the counter.

Mabel looked up as his shadow fell across her drawing, almost scared at first but quickly melting into her pure happiness. "Oh, you're that guy from the library! What was your name again?"

"Um...Phil," the boy said, adjusting his glasses nervously. "My name's Phil. And yours is Mabel, isn't it?"

"Mabel, rhymes with table, not quite maple..." She stopped, looking Phil up and down slowly. "You don't live here, do you? You seem way too smart to buy...I mean..." She gestured to the rock. "You seem to be pretty interested in that. Why?"

Phil looked down at the rock in his hand, then back up at Mabel. "I know it's junk, but the odds of finding one shaped like this are too low for my taste. My parents and I are spending the summer here, and what spells 'tourist' like unimpressive souvenirs?" He had a point there. "We're just trying to blend in with the crowd, but I guess that's harder than it sounds."

"You don't know the half of it," Mabel agreed, rolling her eyes. "That's why my brother and I gave up years ago."

"You live here, don't you?"

"Nah. We're just here for the summer, like you. We've just been here before." She looked at the rock in his hand. "That it, then?"

Phil looked back at the rock, as if surprised he was still holding it. "Um...yeah." He put it down on the counter for her to ring up, and then blurted, "You wouldn't know where to find the best pizza in this town, would you? I mean, maybe we could go, um, together?"

Mabel lit up immediately. "Oh, yeah! We can totally do that! And we can bring Dipper and Candy and Grenda, and any friends you made already besides me, and we'll just -"

"Actually," Phil interrupted, "I was kind of hoping we'd do this as just you and me."

Mabel's smile cracked. "Oh," she repeated, her enthusiasm slipping just slightly. "Sorry, but I don't think I'd be able to do that. I'm sure you're a nice guy, but I don't want people getting the impression that it's a date."

"That's...cool," Phil said with a strained smile of his own. "I just thought, you know, since we're both here for a limited time, and I'm not good with meeting a lot of new people at once..."

"Oh, we'll do something," Mabel promised. "I don't have to work tomorrow, so maybe I'll introduce you to my brother and you can help us with our vampire research."

"We'll see," Phil said, putting the money down on the counter and shoving the stone into his pocket in one motion. He said a pleasant goodbye and left, walking quickly into the woods.

Pacifica didn't even wait until he was out of sight. "That guy is really bad at getting dates," she commented, unaware of the old man's flinch beside her. "If he wants to ask a girl out, he should start by telling her she's pretty."

"That itself doesn't always work," Ford corrected, almost as if he had experience with this himself. "Human females are one mystery I never solved."

Mabel laughed out loud. "Come on, Ford," she said with a grin. "You're never gonna figure women out, because we don't know half of this ourselves." She turned to the blonde with a signature Mabel smile. "Right, Pacifica?"

Pacifica shrugged. "Whatever you say. I only came here because I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"Yes, we do have vampires here," Mabel said as her great-uncle started moving back to the 'house' section of the Mystery Shack. "One vampire, really."

Oh, so now the town had a vampire? She really shouldn't be surprised by that. "I was _talking_ about hearing rumors of a different Thing 1 and Thing 2 hanging out here."

"Aww, you missed us!" When Pacifica huffed and turned to leave without a goodbye, Mabel cut her off. "Since we didn't exactly start off right three years ago, why don't you come with me and Dipper and Phil? It'll be like a double not-date, just four pals hanging out..."

"I'd rather take cyanide pills." Pacifica didn't seem to mind the idea too much, though, and Mabel was surprisingly perceptive on that. "I just came to prove I'm not dead and threaten the old guys with buying this place."

"You haven't changed much at all, have you?"

For that, Pacifica had no answer. How could she, when she had two very different, and equally correct, answers?

* * *

There were werewolves here. He really should have known. He'd never seen the mailman on a full moon, after all. He refused to admit that a nocturnal life meant that he very rarely saw the mailman, anyway.

It didn't matter to him. Dave was not a believer in the whole fur-vs.-fang argument. He was indifferent to the entire concept, as most vampires and werewolves were, knowing that newbloods just had negative reactions to the scent that werewolf blood carried. Half-human, half-animal...he wasn't really a fan, either, but he had learned to ignore it. But it was harder to ignore the destruction a pack could cause if left unchecked.

"What the fudgeballs?" Not really his first choice of words, but he couldn't swear in front of Mabel's innocent ears. Dipper and Mabel were standing with their great-uncle Ford, who was paying no attention whatsoever and instead looking at the upturned tree that had nearly fallen on his house.

Dipper was only half-present, it seemed. His body was here, but his mind had wandered away entirely. "What kind of monster could have done this? Was it in your journals, Ford?"

"It didn't leave any prints," Ford admitted. "I can't tell unless I find the scratch marks..."

"No need for that," Dave cut in, jumping lightly onto the tree and scrambling through the branches. "It cut itself on a broken limb, and took it out on the poor tree. Or maybe it cut itself taking something else out on the tree. I know a werewolf when I smell it, but this is a strong one. Probably an adult."

"The mailman?" Mabel asked, remembering what Soos had told her years ago.

Dave shrugged and swiped a finger across the blood left on the branch. "It could be," he said, as if that was his exact theory. "We need more evidence. It could be that Dan guy. He's the big lumberjack, right?"

Mabel shook her head. "I am..." she took a moment to think. "95% sure he's not a werewolf. Wouldn't that mean his kids were, too?"

Dave made an unconcerned sound, playing with the blood still on his finger.

Dipper took the time to speak up. "Do vampires have werewolf pets?" he asked Dave, but Ford was the one with the answer.

"Werewolves are _nobody's_ pets, Dipper. They fight too much, and for most of the month they're people. My question is, why would a werewolf climb a tree?" He looked down at the near-damage, and bit his tongue before he could add something about destroying his house to the mix. "They keep fragments of their mind when they transform, enough to only attack in self-defense and recognize that their friends won't hurt them, and can switch off the transformation when at peace - unless there's a full moon interference, but that's next week. Some even respond to their human names. Most of them are smarter than this."

"I was going to suggest that maybe they found a cat up there," Dave added, and didn't flinch at the old man's slow head turn.

"You're new to this investigation thing, aren't you?" was the only thing Ford said to that.

Their vampire accomplice didn't have a comeback, but he was probably holding it back. There were, after all, more important issues at hand. "Mabel," he finally said, "you called because you think I can track the thing that did this?"

"You have Dave's phone number?" Dipper asked before she could get an answer in.

"I did call for that," she answered, "using the number that Dave left behind for _you and Ford,_ in case either of you wanted to help him investigate the truth behind the myths of his people. I figured if we promise to help him, he'll help us."

"You don't make deals with mythical creatures," Ford warned, and Dave brushed it off.

"Oh, I'm sure the girl knows that trusting me is a horrible decision she's bound to regret. But you seem to lack the understanding that she has. Unless you have some form of supernatural detector, I'm the closest you're going to get."

Ford started to protest that he could easily invent something of the sort, but Dave was already back to searching the branches for an update. "He's still not completely trustworthy, Mabel."

"Kind of like you, huh, Ford?" Mabel grinned at her great-uncle's face, reassuring him that no harm was meant. "Give him a chance, he might be useful."

* * *

Dave found nothing particularly credible. Not a scrap of clothing from the creature's human form, not a shed piece of hair or fur, or even a broken claw. But he promised that the blood was enough, and if they gave him until the full moon, he'd be able to figure out the general location of the beast they were searching for, if not the identity.

Ford didn't want to wait that long.

"We'll find the werewolf," he promised. "With or without his help."

"But won't that just make him worthless in the long run?" Mabel asked, tapping her chin. "I mean, what if the werewolf doesn't want a stereotypical crazy old man pointing out his or her identity?"

"I'll confront the werewolf privately," Ford tried protesting, but Mabel shook her head.

"Dave's already on the case. Besides, I promised Phil that Dipper and I would take him on a monster hunt, and maybe he'll turn out to be the werewolf that knocked over the tree."

"You really think that's going to happen? This Phil isn't an adult. No teenage werewolf can take out a tree that big."

"But who do you think it can be, Ford?"

Ford had no theories of his own, but he couldn't tell Mabel that. "If Phil is a werewolf," he finally said, "keep an eye on his parents, too."

Mabel grinned and pulled a blue, ribboned hair tie from her bag. "I've got to see if he's one, first," she teased as she twisted her hair up. "Well, I've got a friend-date and I'm taking Dipper with me. If we get mauled, it's because Phil really is a werewolf."

"Take silver bullets," was the immediate reply. Mabel knew that this was Ford's way of telling her that he cared.

* * *

Phil and Dipper had hit it off pretty well, all things considered. Phil asked if Dipper had any leads on the vampires, and reacted with the appropriate sounds when he'd explained that his only lead (neglecting to mention Dave by name) was off on a mission trying to find out what had nearly crushed his great-uncles' house.

Phil nearly choked on his soda at that. "Wow," he finally said, pushing his glasses closer to his nose. "I knew this town was weird, but I never thought that monsters would be attacking houses."

"You get used to it," Dipper told him. "Sad but true."

"So how long have you guys been coming here?" Phil asked, pretending to be indifferent when the Mystery Twins could see right through it. "Investigating vampires, drawing fictional creatures to you...you must be completely adapted to this strangeness."

"We adapted when we were _twelve,_ " Mabel replied at once. "We got into trouble with monsters every other day, pretty much. That's how Dipper got involved with Grunkle Ford in the monster-hunting business."

"Ford," Phil repeated, uncertain. "He's the one who comes up with the explanations for all the garbage in the Mystery Shack, isn't he? Told my parents that of course the 'Girafro' was a real magical creature and not to bug him anymore."

"That's Ford for you," Dipper cut in. "He never tries."

Phil wisely chose not to comment. "You said you adjusted when you were twelve, but you had to have been staying with your uncles before then, right?"

The twins made brief, awkward eye contact, before Mabel started blowing bubbles into her soda through the straw and Dipper taking a long, slow pull from his. That was enough for Phil, and he barely stopped himself from pulling a spit-take.

"Really?"

"We'd hardly even met Grunkle Stan before that," Mabel explained. "Then Ford came back about halfway through the summer, and we started kicking butt as a family."

Phil remained impressed, as if he'd never seen a family working together to stop evil before. "But you were kids, and they're old..."

"Age means nothing," Mabel said happily. "Dipper even took out a ghost without help from me, Stan or Ford!"

"That was Pacifica. I just pushed her in the right direction." She'd needed it, but she'd turned out to be stronger than he could have hoped for.

Phil knew better than to ask. "This town has a lot of interesting people. Maybe my parents and I will fit in after all."

"You have a weird family, too?" Mabel leaned across the table, unaware of the action. "What's yours like?"

Phil immediately leaned away, his face turning red at the closeness. "It's not...um, we're not...well..." He pulled off his glasses and focused, taking deep, calming breaths. "My parents like puns. It gets old fast, but when they heard how strange everything got in this town, we packed up to spend the summer here. I never knew the place had vampires."

"And werewolves," Mabel finished for him.

Phil nodded. "And werewolves. My point is, this town has weirdness all over it, and I want in."

They told him that they had to ask Stan and Ford, first, but they were positive that they wouldn't say no. After all, the more the merrier.

* * *

"Absolutely not."

Well, that hadn't played out at all like the twins were expecting. They'd assumed that Ford would be more than willing to have another admirer for his research, and having the instant rejection came as a shock.

"Why not?" Mabel demanded, throwing her hands in the air. Glitter fell from her sleeve, sprinkling the wood floor with tiny yellow sparkles, but nobody seemed to care. "We're already keeping Dave!"

"We are not _keeping_ anybody!" Ford finally looked back to the twins. "Dave's like a stray cat, he can come and go as long as he's not hurting anybody. I wouldn't trust him with a turkey sandwich, and yet you want to invite this Phil kid?"

"I wasn't talking permanently," Mabel protested. "Just with the werewolf. He said he wants in."

"And that could mean any number of things. If he's the wolf, he could be attempting to cover his tracks. If he's not, I don't want to have to explain his death to his parents."

"And if werewolves are after the Shack," Stan added, picking up a gun, "it's for the best if we use 'em for display."

"Put the gun down, Stanley. We'll find out if Phil is the wolf, first."

"First?" Dipper repeated, not sure if he liked the thought of anyone ending up dead. "What do you mean first? You just said -"

Stan caught on, at least. "If your friend's a werewolf, we'll take precautions."

No mention of what precautions would be used, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

Looking back, Dipper suspected that he should have backed out when he had the chance. He kept going only because he knew that somebody would need to go and tell the rest of the family what had happened if wolf-Phil ended up tearing Mabel's face off or something.

And, to be perfectly honest, Dipper believed that there was a strong chance of Phil being the wolf. It was exactly the type of cliché that might be expected, having a vampire and a werewolf in the same supernatural-infested town. All he needed was Dave to have a teenage nephew or brother show up and it could turn into the plot of a bestselling teen romance novel...

He shuddered. No, Mabel had an entirely different kind of strangeness. She might be open with her dating pool, but even if she did have a vampire or werewolf for a boyfriend, she wouldn't accept a love triangle. She'd try to set the other one up with Candy or Grenda or Pacifica.

"You guys wanted to talk about something?"

Dipper wasn't sure if the yelp of surprise came from himself or his sister, but it had Phil entertained. "Come on, guys, I won't hurt you. You trusted me enough to meet me alone in the dark. You should know I'm almost completely harmless."

"Yeah," Mabel said, nervously pulling her sleeve down. "Look, Phil, I have a few questions that you have to answer if you want to be part of our little Mystery Gang. Consider it a job interview."

"I've never been good with those," Phil admitted, and Mabel tried to look reassuring.

"I don't think any of us are, but we're young. We have time to get better." She pulled a tiny pink notepad from her pocket, flipping it past the sketches of dresses, lists of potential birthday gifts for her brother, her own birthday wish list, and drawings of small fluffy animals before finally finding what she was looking for. "First question: Before you came to Gravity Falls, did you ever come face-to-face with a supernatural creature?"

"More than once," Phil said instantly. "The ghosts haunting my aunt's house, the zombie turkeys last Christmas..."

"Zombie _turkeys_?" Dipper cut in, momentarily forgetting that the interview was staged specifically so they could ask if Phil was a werewolf. "How did you end up with zombie turkeys?"

Phil must have been looking forward to telling this story for a long time, as he jumped right in with no hesitation. "This witch two towns away came home from college and decided to try to reanimate her dead canary," he explained. "Instead of just the one, the spell affected every bird that died in the county over the past two years, and since my family likes meat we got headless skeletons all over the place. It made the supernatural news, once the girl cancelled her spell, but I think they tried passing it off to normal people as something in the water making them hallucinate."

"It wouldn't be the first accidental zombie apocalypse," Mabel said, giving her twin a look that proved she had not forgotten the karaoke experience. "Except _he_ brought _humans_ back from the dead."

"I said I was sorry!"

"A zombie apocalypse was caused by _Dipper_?" Phil looked Dipper over again, as if trying to see something he'd overlooked before. "It takes either a really powerful spell or really strong magic to do that by accident. Are you a witch?" Then he stopped, his eyebrows scrunching in thought. "A wizard? Warlock? Jeez, I forgot what the proper term is..."

"I found the spell in my great-uncle's book, and he says he found it somewhere. It was probably the spell itself." Dipper didn't dwell on the question, though. "How do you know what made the supernatural news?"

Phil shrugged, dropping the mental search for the time being. "My family keeps records."

Dipper gestured for Mabel to move on to the next question. Mabel, though initially not comprehending, quickly made the connection and returned to her notes. "Um, so, moving on. Would you be able to provide any sort of assistance in the search for answers to vampire mythology?"

"I'd say I can. Next question."

"Are you a werewolf?"

Was that her Plan? Just asking him? Why would he just tell them about it? Dave hadn't even admitted being a vampire without the mirror story, and Phil was just staring blankly at Mabel, shifting his stare to Dipper, and turning slowly back to Mabel.

"I didn't knock the tree into your house," he finally began, but Mabel impatiently tapped the notepad.

"I never said you did. I asked if you were _a_ werewolf, not _the_ werewolf."

"Oh. Then, yeah, I'm a werewolf." He must have taken their surprise at how quickly he'd admitted it to be surprise at the revelation. "It's kind of expected, with the vampires and the werewolf attacking your tree right after you guys met me and all. Sorry about that, by the way, my dad found out that your uncle ripped him off and reacted badly. And my name's Phil Moon, so that was another clue..."

"It's not that," Dipper finally said, shoving his surprise behind him so the fellow visitor wouldn't dominate the conversation. "You just bluntly _admitted_ it, we didn't have to threaten you with anything -"

"Your name is _Phil Moon?_ " Mabel cut in, over whatever her brother might have added. "What kind of people are your parents? Were you just some kid with a punny name that got unlucky and survived a werewolf attack?"

"I wish." Phil shook his head sadly. "No, I was born a werewolf, it just kicked in once puberty slowed down. You guys have seen some weird stuff, so I thought I should warn you before the full moon hits in a few days. Just in case I escape confinement and you need to tranquilize me."

Mabel wasn't letting it drop. "Your parents knew what you were going to end up, and they named you _Phil Moon._ "

"Yes. Yes, they did. I thought it would be the whole 'monster' thing that threw you guys."

"We've seen stranger," Dipper promised. "And it's not like we haven't heard pun names before. Tad Strange, Toby Determined..."

"But this one is a giveaway!" Mabel complained. "Who names their werewolf baby Phil Moon?"

Phil rolled his eyes to the back of his head. "I'll tell you what, Mabel. I can introduce you two to my parents after the full moon, and you'll see exactly what kind of people they are."

"That would be great, actually." Mabel muttered "Phil Moon" again, but turned to her notepad, ready for the final question: "Would you be willing to degrade yourself to 'tracking dog' if that meant we'd pay you?"

That one took Phil a few moments. "Why not?" he finally decided. "How much?"

"You'd be an honorary Mystery Shack employee, so...eh, I'm sure Dipper and I can give you part of whatever our uncles pay us."

Dipper gave his sister a meaningful stare. "You mean stickers, food and whatever Ford has in his pockets?"

"I'll work for food," Phil said quickly. "My family's here for vacation, they might not react well if I tell them I've got a job."

"We can't tell Ford yet, he kind of said no." Mabel smiled nervously. "You'll just be the emergency contact."

"Will you make it worth my time?" Phil teased, and Mabel went stiff. "I mean, a friend-date. I'm fine with being friends, if you're not thinking..." he made a gesture.

Mabel didn't answer. Dipper decided that it was better for him to get a question in than to wait. "You mentioned something about confinement. What do you mean by that?"

* * *

When their great-uncles noticed that Dipper and Mabel were unusually smug, they each tried to get the other to make the first comment. Neither needed to. The moment Mabel realized that she and her brother had their attention, she announced, "We were right, Phil is a werewolf. His dad got upset that Stan ripped him off and took down the tree, and Phil and his mom had to track him down and turn him back to his human form. You might want to look out for them, guys."

Stan was momentarily distracted. "So you went up to this guy and asked him if he was a werewolf?"

"And he told you?" Ford was more amazed than angry. Sure, he didn't want them to die, but he figured that since both were clearly in one piece, he could afford to postpone the punishment to get the whole story. He wasn't a parent, after all. "How did you convince him to do that?"

Mabel shrugged. "We talked about the supernatural aspects of Gravity Falls before, he didn't seem to freak out, and then we talked a little more when we confronted him."

"She mentioned that time I raised the dead," Dipper added. "You're going to tell us all about how you discovered the zombie weakness sometime."

"Don't try to distract me." He knew it might actually work, and then how would he get the younger twins to help him investigate the reality of horror movie monsters?

Contrary to his brother, Stan had gone unnervingly calm. "Well," he said, distracting Dipper and Mabel from their punishment-avoidance plan. "You're not grounded, you're probably safer from him than we are -"

"For now," Ford interrupted.

"Whatever. Point is, you're lucky your parents don't know about the supernatural garbage, because if they were staying here, too..." He tipped his fez back into place. "Missing a party would be the least of your concerns."

"Missing a party?"

Stan held two small envelopes over their heads. "Northwest decided to invite you to a Summerween party. Soos caught her slipping _these_ under the door when you were gone, probably hoping we'd never see her. Figured putting yourselves in danger means your friends should get used to not seeing you."

As the twins accepted their fates and retreated to another room, taking the invitations anyway, Ford seemed almost impressed. "Since when do you read parenting books, Stanley?"

Stan didn't question how his brother came to that conclusion. "Dealing with teenagers is a war zone waiting to happen," he said, not providing an explanation. "Ticking time bombs, all of em. Girls even more than boys."

Ford suddenly had a vision of sweet, innocent Mabel screaming nonsense like a banshee, and immediately shoved it from his mind. He'd rather take the banshee. He knew how to deal with those. "You know they're going to the party anyway, right?"

"I'm not an idiot, Stanford. I won't stop them, Summerween's still a few weeks away." He chuckled and opened a soda. "We'll just have to make them work it off as attractions in the Shack."


	3. Shipping 101

**We tried to resist the temptation, but the thought of Ford discovering shipping and bonding with Mabel over their nonexistent love lives was too much for us. And we might have turned it into a vague Portal reference, completely unintentionally until it became intentional. On the bright side, this is where the Dipifica starts.**

" _Shhiiiip..._ " Mabel hissed from her spot on the floor, where she had plopped down the moment the movie had caught her attention. Her current project, a plain white dress, lay half-forgotten beside her, the sleeves barely pinned together.

Stan, for all he might have done, was not even close to asking. There were a few things that crossed his mind, but he was not particularly interested in why his niece was saying things that had very little application to the film.

Ford was not so uncaring.

"Did you say something, Mabel?"

Mabel shrugged and stretched out on the floor. "Shipping," she said for explanation. "The process of pairing off two characters in a romantic context. Or, more specifically, him," she pointed to the man on screen, a rough-looking guy with a beard, "and her," she added, pointing to the small, thin redhead beside him.

Ford looked at the screen, then over at Stan, as if it were Stan's fault that he still had a lot to learn about modern culture after his thirty-year portal dive. "What does mailing packages have to do with fictional romance?"

"Nothing," Stan answered immediately. "It really comes from pirate ships. I don't know what they have to do with fictional romance, either, but I never claimed to be an expert."

"You're both wrong," Mabel complained. "It doesn't have anything to do with pirates or packages."

"Then why did you throw a book at a wall and scream about a cannon killing your ship?"

There was a moment of silence as Mabel slowly, _very_ slowly, processed what Stan had said. Then there was another moment as she turned around to look him in the eye.

"You know," she said after finding her voice, "I won't hold this against you. You're both old and have spent the majority of your lives single, of course you wouldn't understand modern fan terms if they bit you on your wrinkly butts. That's why," she added, a wide smile spreading, "I'm going to prepare a proper Power Point presentation and puppet performance for you to process this propaganda called shipping."

There was another moment of awkward silence, this time on the part of the grunkles.

"There's no way you didn't choose those words on purpose," Stan finally said.

"Oh, I chose them on purpose, all right," Mabel agreed. "And I'll get to work on the presentation right after I finish my movie."

Stan put a finger gun to the side of his head. Ford, deeply regretting ever asking in the first place, retreated into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee before going back to the basement, wondering if he could just stay in there for the rest of the summer and come back up just in time to say goodbye to the twins.

He almost dropped the whole pot when hearing two sounds that did not come from Stan: music that made him think of a medieval joust and Mabel's groan of frustration. He'd never get used to her 'ringtone,' or mobile phones in general. Then, almost as if she hadn't been interrupted from her ship, or whatever it was, she cheered, "Pacifica, hi!"

Ford noticed Dipper's head poke around the corner, almost as if drawn to the sound of the name. The boy had learned to get along with the Northwest girl last time, after all, and from their brief encounter while he and his sister were taking their pet werewolf for a walk (all three kids came back to the Mystery Shack covered in cheese and carried by a mob of angry gnomes, not one of them bothering to give an explanation on what happened after they said goodbye to Pacifica) he and Mabel both seemed to be willing to pick that strange friendship up again.

So, it was almost funny when Mabel hopped into the room, found her brother digging for snacks, and said "I just set you up on a date with a really pretty girl. Don't worry, it's a movie, you won't have to talk."

"You set me up with Pacifica Northwest?" Dipper took a step back. "Look, I'll admit she's not the worst thing ever, but we're barely even friends, Mabel."

Mabel started humming a slow song, before starting to sing along. _"Barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly..."_

Dipper shut her up quickly. "If I ask for the details, will you never do that again?"

"I won't do it in front of her," Mabel compromised. Seeing that this was as good as he was going to get, Dipper motioned for her to go on. Mabel was already searching something on the cell phone she'd gotten the previous winter. "You're going out to see that new vampire movie. You know, the one that's supposed to be this romantic horror musical?"

To show him what she meant, she shoved the phone in his face. Dipper leaned back to get a better look. It was the poster, such as it was, with a red background and a set of fangs holding the title in place. "Musical Fangs," he read off, "it sucks more than vampires."

"I already made plans to see it with Candy and Grenda," Mabel added as Dipper attempted to find other information. "I invited her to come along, but she said that I'm fine in small doses but my friends are a little too much. That's when I mentioned you liked bad horror movies, she said she liked making fun of bad romances, and we eventually came to the conclusion of you two checking it out together. No smooching required, she made me promise."

Ford held out his hand to study the picture. "It's not even accurately depicting vampire fangs," he noted, the second Mabel handed him her phone. "They do have longer canine teeth than humans, but they're not three inches long. It's how sharp they are that makes them a threat."

"The movie wasn't filmed in Gravity Falls, Grunkle Ford." Mabel took her phone back and switched it off. "What do you say, Dipper?"

Well, it wasn't as if it had to be a _romantic_ date. "Do I have a choice?" Mabel shook her head. "Then why not? Dave's not giving any more explanations and the full moon's tonight. It's not like our investigation of real vampires is going anywhere."

Mabel grinned, before quickly running back for her project, barely calling that she'd missed the ending of the movie and had a slideshow to make. Her brother just sat down in an empty chair and stared at the table.

He had a date with Pacifica Northwest. What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Girls weren't really something Dipper understood. He'd dealt with Mabel his entire life, but she was his _sister._ He'd never done the 'dating' thing before, his first kiss was from a game of Truth or Dare, and even though he'd done as much looking as any other fifteen-year-old boy (Mabel called it "Window shopping," and it was the reason she went to all of their school's home games) after Wendy he'd never really had a crush. He used to think it was because he was waiting to grow up and cut the importance of the age gap, but an almost-friend-date was a way to at least tell his favorite redhead that he'd moved on, right?

And it wasn't like Musical Fangs was supposed to be _good_.

He could totally do this. He just needed a man-to-man pep talk, and preferably not with Stan - he didn't want to know what kind of advice he'd get then. And at least one journal had made a direct reference to Ford having bad luck with girls, so there was really only one man he could talk to.

And now that he was here, he couldn't believe he was doing this.

"Hey, Soos? You had a girlfriend once, right? Melody, or whatever her name is?"

"Still do, dude." Soos didn't seem upset about the implication that Dipper thought it was over. He must still be amazed himself. "You need help with Pacifica?"

So Mabel had told him, too. Great. "Not for Pacifica herself. Just the whole 'date' thing in general. How does that work?"

Soos was quiet for a moment, and then he placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "You've come to the wrong man," he said, as if that itself were great advice.

"Yeah, I figured."

Soos, being the nice guy he was, didn't take that as offensive, either. "A 'date' for us is competing for a high score on Zombie Bones 3. This sounds like one of those girly high school drama movies."

"But I don't want to be the meat prize for the unpopular nerdy girl to win when she dethrones the head cheerleader, I just want a friendship with the spoiled alpha teen."

And he knew the plot of every teen drama film ever. The thought wasn't really pleasing.

"I need a ride, too. I don't know if I'm allowed to drive outside of California."

"So get your uncles," Soos suggested. "I got plans tonight, dude."

"My _uncles_?" That thought was even less pleasing. "Stan's dating advice probably shouldn't be followed by anyone, and I don't think Ford has ever been within three feet of a girl that wasn't his mother."

"You don't want to have a real date," Soos reminded him. "Just tune them out."

Just tune them out. Sounded like a good idea. That should have been the first clue that it wasn't.

* * *

"What's the point of this thing you're heading to?"

Dipper had tried to tune out his uncle. That had led to him unintentionally agreeing to let Stan come along - not just as a driver, but as the official third wheel. After that, he'd decided to deal with it and listen this time.

"I have no idea," Dipper admitted. "Mabel just told Pacifica that I like bad horror movies, Pacifica said she wanted to see if it was 'so bad it's good' or just plain bad, and the next thing either of us knew, we had a date to watch a singing vampire invasion."

"And you couldn't get more details than that? I'm third-wheeling this thing, I want to know what I'm getting into."

"You can just uninvite yourself."

Stan looked over at his nephew, a challenge in his eyes. "And whose car are you sitting in?"

Dipper groaned. "You actually want to see singing vampires falling in love and having a big laugh about it as they kill dozens of people?" _He_ was starting to have second thoughts, and he loved bad horror movies. "I didn't think you would want to sit through that."

Stan tried to keep his face neutral, but Dipper could see the disgust. "You're going to sit through this one, kid. I have a backup plan."

"Sitting through Star 'Sploders 3 instead?" the boy suggested hopefully.

Stan didn't answer. That was yet another warning.

* * *

While Dipper and Stan were heading to 'their' date with Pacifica, Mabel was showing Ford the marvel of modern technology. In other words, they were trying to beat the other's high score on Vegetable Samurai.

"Who puts bombs in a salad?" Ford demanded, passing her the phone. "This game made more sense with the three-strikes rule."

"It means you beat the first level this time," Mabel insisted, looking at his new high score, a grand total of 70. Not even close to her 215. "You're doing better than Stan."

Ford chuckled. "Well, that does make me feel a little better. Where is Stan, anyway?"

"Oh. He's taking Dipper to his date." She looked up from her own game as Ford suddenly stood up, taking all three hits necessary to lose her game. "What's wrong with that?"

"Stan's chaperoning. Not that there's anything wrong with that, particularly," Ford admitted, "but I have seen the results, and they aren't good."

Mabel turned off her phone, not taking her eyes off of Ford's back. "What 'results,' Ford?"

He turned, his hands behind his back. "It's been quite a long time since I've witnessed such a thing. We may not have anything to worry about."

"And if we do have something to worry about?"

Ford stood still, debating exactly what to tell her. "How much do you value your brother continuing a relationship, platonic or otherwise, with Pacifica Northwest?"

So either they had nothing to worry about and Stan was coming along to keep the kids from being kidnapped or eaten by real vampires, or he was going to see Dipper freaking out over something potentially romantic and intervene on his behalf, possibly messing up any chance Mabel had of playing matchmaker this year.

Better safe than sorry.

"Grunkle Ford, I want to break into the movie theater."

He was on her side in a moment. "Come with me, Mabel. I've been -" he cleared his throat, "- _modifying_ an old car I found in the dump. It needs a test run and you need driving practice, let's just kill two birds at once."

"Modifying?" Mabel repeated, her eyebrows scrunching. "What, were you trying to fit a DeLorean with a time machine or something?"

"No, but that sounds like a great idea."

Mabel laughed as she followed her uncle to the car itself. "It's been done, sorry. I was making a joke."

"Done?" Ford stopped in his tracks, looking at Mabel as if she was the source of it herself. "Somebody's cracked the mechanics of time travel?"

Her amusement vanished. "Not yet, but the movie made a couple billion dollars." He hadn't seen it in the three years he'd been home? She needed to schedule a family movie night immediately. "Real time machines are much smaller."

He didn't think he wanted to know where she got that knowledge from. He'd just have to invent time machines someday. "Never do that to me again, Mabel."

The car was in sight, and he handed over the keys with only the warning not to press the big blue button where the horn used to be - that was for the trip home. As they were putting on the seat belts, however, Mabel thought of something else.

"How do you know Stan's chaperoning would ruin it?" She pressed her hands to her mouth as she met her uncle's eyes, the key hanging limply in the ignition as it waited to be turned. "Did you have a date that he third-wheeled?"

That struck a memory, and she got to watch as the Author of the Journals, Dipper's idol, attempted to casually flip his coat collar up to hide himself.

"Yes," Ford said after a second of silence. "I had a date once. With a real girl who had actually met me, no matter what Stan tells you."

Mabel pressed the gas pedal just a little too hard, sending both her and Ford lurching back. "Tell me the story," she demanded, as a car blew across the intersection.

"If I do, you have to promise that you won't...what do you young people say? 'Ship it.' It was in high school over forty years ago, and I haven't seen her since graduation." Mabel made a weak sound, likely promising nothing of the sort, but Ford took it as a yes.

"Her name was Caroline," he began, not sounding bitter at all. They'd separated on mutual terms, Mabel could tell that much just from his voice. "I forget her last name, and it's likely changed by now. I do remember that she wasn't entirely repulsed by my hands, and that I've never seen a girl that involved in catching bugs."

"An insect biologist?" Mabel guessed.

"A botanist," Ford corrected, "with a special interest in carnivorous plants. I remember her saying that she wanted to watch them eat."

She should have known he'd go for brains over beauty. Personally, she liked guys who were good-looking and nice to her, but she definitely wouldn't complain if they were also smarter than a certain boy band's collective IQ. "So who made the first move?"

"Stan said I did, but I completely blacked out the incident in question. I just remember panic until my brother walked up and explained what had happened." He thought hard, trying to remember. "I think I may have attempted to flirt in Star Trek quotes, but that could be my mind playing tricks on me."

"So should I call you Grunkle Kirk from now on?" Mabel teased, and felt Ford's eyes on her.

"Do you want me to finish this story?"

As an answer, she slowed the car down as the speed limit changed. Ford, satisfied for the moment, went back to trying to sort through his dim memories.

"We were supposed to go as a group," he finally revealed, once he'd dug it up enough. "Then Stan's girlfriend got a message and cancelled. It didn't stop _him._ I ended up trying to get rid of him, but he was a sneak even back then. I didn't mind the moral support, but he was apparently trying to, as subtly as Stanley ever gets, convince me that we were the only hope 'nerdlings' like us would get to -"

He broke off with a horrified glance at his great-niece, and nervously cleared his throat. "Needless to say, Caroline and I were both uncomfortable with the idea of promising eternal love to each other at the age of seventeen."

Mabel snorted. "That's a way of putting it I hadn't heard before."

Ford ignored the commentary. "We decided to pretend the whole incident never happened, and went back to our set habit of pretending the other didn't exist unless acknowledging his or her hard work."

Mabel looked away from the road just long enough to give Ford a skeptical look. "You didn't hold things not working out with Caroline against Stan, did you?"

It sounded like she expected him to do so. Just how little trust did she have in him, really? "Only for a few days. I _think_ he was trying to help."

"And you're over her, right?"

"Mabel, it's been over four decades. I only had those memories this long in case I needed to avoid a repeat of the incident in question, and it's a good thing I did." She grinned sheepishly, and he returned the smile. "Besides, I found my true love in studying anomalies. No women necessary."

Mabel's lips pinched together as she focused on the road. "So we're trying to save Pacifica from becoming Dipper's Caroline?" she asked after a moment of consideration.

"If we can make it in time. You're sure you know where we're going?" Mabel noded. "Then speed up, and try to avoid the police. I don't think they'll do anything, but you never know."

As she turned the corner, something moved in the bushes. Slowly, it stepped out into the road.

* * *

Pacifica had paid for Dipper's entry (with a stunned "You can afford your own ticket?" when he'd processed what she was doing and tried to suggest that they each buy their own way in) and had gotten sucked into it, pun very much intended, from the very first musical number.

It wasn't the way most people would be, though. While clearly entranced by the music, the opera-like voices, and the swirling of dozens of gowns in various colors, the real smile came when the first vampire claimed his first victim.

"He can't be drinking much," she'd noted, voice hushed, as the victim's screams faded into a gurgle. "Most of it is ruining her dress and making a big mess on the floor. It's a shame, the costumers were actually spot-on for the mid-nineteenth century...the décor could use work, though, it would be more in place with the early Depression era."

"Someone please fetch this fellow a napkin," Dipper had whispered back, in the best impression of a snobby, aristocratic vampire king he could, "before he can ruin our precious futuristic seating arrangements."

Pacifica had not been expecting that, or how much he had sounded like her father, and had covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the laughter.

Now, it was forty-five minutes into a two-hour film, and they were glad to be sitting in the back row of a near-empty room, as "napkins" was officially the inside joke. They were very sloppy vampires, and yet they seemed to be getting enough blood with every feeding to continue their takeover even into modern times.

And, better yet, after the first ten long, horrifying minutes, Stan had decided that switching off his hearing aid and taking a nap would be better than actual third-wheeling, with the added benefit of not waking up to one of Ford's experiments nearly blowing up the house. Nobody would demand to be let in on the joke, so the pair could die of silent laughter all they wanted.

"The fangs are wrong, you know," Dipper said casually, as the main male vampire showed off his three-inch-long teeth in what appeared to be a mating display, if the female vampire's reaction was anything to go on. "Real vampire fangs aren't that much longer than human canine teeth, they're just sharp enough to tear through flesh."

"It's a movie, loser," Pacifica hissed. "Leave your nerd knowledge at the door, Hollywood doesn't _have_ real vampires. They don't do well on camera, you know."

"You knew enough about the history of clothing and furniture to classify that as nerd knowledge. Maybe you should leave that at the door."

"That's different. People could look that kind of thing up online, there are plenty of history nuts debating about this stuff. Some of it even survived to the present day."

"And why couldn't they look up real vampires?"

"Why should they, when they have all the resources that centuries of folklore gave us?"

Dipper's retaliation was cut off by Pacifica holding up one finger as the music of the token romantic duet played. 'Eternity' was a fitting title for the vampire love song. Yes, the effect was ruined by the pair in question proceeding to make out over the corpse of the man they'd just drained onto the ground, but the actual song and choreography weren't _that_ bad.

Dipper was sure that a drunken gnome would have been worse, at least.

* * *

Mabel was panicking, saying words Ford hadn't been aware she knew as she blubbered through her tears. He had used one of them himself when he saw the streak of blood on the road, and then again when he'd noticed just what they'd hit.

Fortunately, the centaur seemed to be merely unconscious, and his wounds less than serious.

"What are we going to do, Ford?" Mabel complained, tears streaking down her face again. "This isn't just some pedestrian! This is a magical creature!"

Ford picked up the centaur's limp body and attempted to heave it onto the roof of the car. It took a few tries, as his age wasn't on his side, but he seemed to be willing to help. "If we want to help him, we're going to have to find his herd."

"But what about Dipper and Pacifica?"

Ford looked up at the unconscious centaur. "We have bigger priorities than restraining Stan. Which way did he come from?"

Mabel looked around, then pointed to the east. "He came from there. I think." Ford climbed into the driver's seat this time, but Mabel refused to get in. "I really don't think breaking more road safety laws will help him."

At least he was willing to let her call the shots now. That was a definite improvement.

And at least the centaur was kind of cute.

She didn't realize she'd said that part out loud until Ford had facepalmed, shaking his head slowly. "Mabel, he's a horse from the waist down."

"That doesn't matter." She thought about telling him that her first kiss was with a guy who was a _fish_ from the waist down, but that just might make Ford ashamed to even be related to her. "Besides, I'm doing this for his health, not in the hopes of a rescue romance. How much do you know about centaurs?"

Ford propped their unintended victim against a tree. "Nothing. But trial and error is as good a method as any."

The centaur chose that moment to open his eyes, and he immediately struggled to get back on his hooves. Mabel was briefly distracted by the muscles of his bare human chest, but then his back legs gave out and he dropped back down.

"We're not here to hurt you," she promised, and he made an angry horse noise and attempted to back away. "No, you don't get it. That was an accident. We're not bad people."

The centaur gestured to the spot on his horse body, the place Mabel wanted to call a hip, where the car had hit him. She grimaced. "Yeah, that was an accident. We didn't mean it, honestly. Just let us find a giant Band-Aid or something, or maybe find other centaurs. Are there others like you here?"

The centaur blinked slowly. Did he speak English at all? "Ford, maybe we should call...never mind." It was the full moon, Phil would be more likely to attack those he didn't recognize. And she didn't know if werewolves had thumbs in their other forms. "Maybe Dave can give us medical advice?"

"I don't think Dave has a license to practice medicine on anything." Ford was completely at a loss, and he was terrified to admit it. There hadn't been _centaurs_ in Gravity Falls thirty-some years ago. He would know, they were close enough to unicorns.

Wait.

It was risky. They didn't like to deal with humans, and were frustrating at best. But these were desperate times, and desperate measures were called for. They were close enough to the secret part of the forest, anyway.

"How do you feel about unicorns?"

It wouldn't be the first bad decision he made that night.

* * *

Dipper was enjoying himself more than he thought he would. From laughing at the over-the-top carnage to whispered, sarcasm-laced conversations with Pacifica that didn't always have to do with the movie, he was having fun.

Now he was just wondering how this had squeaked past with a PG-13 rating when it was a bloodbath from the start.

"Maybe the censors just didn't care," Pacifica suggested when he asked. "It's supposed to be a horror movie, not just a comedy."

The two fell silent once again, this time as they heard footsteps going down the aisle. They watched as a young man moved past their row, telling a woman with a rather obnoxious laugh to quiet down.

The rest of the movie was more comedy than horror or even romance, almost as if the writers had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. There weren't jump scares, but when the 'hero antagonist' Diana Van Helsing (yes, that was her name, as they'd also forgotten that other vampire hunters could exist) lost her brother to the vampires, she'd led a rebellion through another catchy song.

All in all, a very unique film. Dipper would have to warn Mabel that everyone died at the end, though. She hated being caught off guard like that.

"I'm buying that thing when I can," Pacifica stated as they left the room, Dipper half-dragging Stan after he'd forgotten to turn his hearing aid back on. "It was _horrible,_ I loved it."

"It was horrible," Dipper agreed. "I think that must have been what they were going for."

"It better be. I'm telling everyone that it was, it's self-justification." One look out the doors, and she froze completely. "Is that your sister standing outside and staring like a creepy hallway twin?"

Dipper followed her stare, and instantly wished he hadn't.

Mabel waved. "Hi, Dipper!" she mouthed. "I brought Ford!"

* * *

"So you're telling me that we did all of this for nothing?" Ford asked once everything was cleared up. "I told Mabel an embarrassing backstory only to find that Stan slept through the whole thing?"

"Love is never embarrassing," Mabel contradicted him. "And I did get some parking lot practice in, _and_ we managed to save that hot centaur guy I accidentally hit with the car. Even if, you know, pawning him off on the unicorns wasn't the best idea. It wasn't a total waste."

"You hit a centaur with a car." Pacifica didn't sound surprised. "And then you pawned him off on unicorns."

"They understood his injury more than we did." Mabel sighed in clear disappointment. "All we needed to do was give him a nice set of horse bandages. Centaurs are surprisingly durable. Anyway," she added with a forced smile, "how did your date go?"

"I want to hear more about the centaur," Dipper said, looking at the rather noticeable dent in Ford's car. "You dropped him off with a bunch of unicorns?"

"To save his life. Now tell me how your date went."

"Mabel -"

"You'll get the full story at home," she promised. "And you didn't miss much, centaurs only speak horse and Russian."

"It wasn't a romance date," Pacifica answered for the both of them. "Now, about that centaur."

"Of course it wasn't a romance date," Mabel said, attempting to avoid the question. "That's why you told me to ask him if he wanted to see this thing with you."

Pacifica's pale face turned slightly pink as her date's head turned. "I didn't want to go alone."

"And I'm sure that's also why you used the phrase 'puberty smacked him with a hammer,' right?" Mabel wasn't about to let it go, unfortunately.

Pacifica squirmed a little at the way Dipper was looking at her. It was as if he was saving it all for the perfect blackmail opportunity. "That was taken completely out of context," she hissed. "It wasn't even referring to -"

"Wait," Dipper said, his evil smile spreading. "You actually wanted to go on a date with me, and asked me out through my sister? Everything's taken a turn for the weird this time, hasn't it?"

"It wasn't a date," Pacifica insisted. "I was bored, you didn't give me your number so I couldn't call you directly, and she gave me the option of either asking you or coming along with her and her friends. I chose the less annoying option."

Dipper still didn't let up. "You actually asked me out through my sister?"

Pacifica stared blankly, slowly shifting her eyes from one Pines to another. "Yes," she finally said, voice empty of all emotion. "Yes, I guess I did, in a way. In a very loose interpretation of asking you out, I did. Are you happy now?"

"I agreed to it, didn't I?" Dipper started on his way to Stan's car, waiting for him to follow. "Do you want us to drop you off at your place, or not?"

"I've called my chauffeur. I wouldn't want my parents to know I was hanging out with a Pines, after all. Not unless I'm dating one romantically." Her own evil grin would have made Dave proud. "I'd love to see what would happen if they found out my boyfriend was 'like you.' They'd probably cut me off..."

Her tone implied that she wasn't sure if she'd like that or not. So she hadn't done a complete turnaround yet.

"So you'll tell them he's your boyfriend, eventually?" Mabel was shushed by both of her grunkles at once, but Pacifica didn't answer immediately.

Dipper spoke for her. "Stop talking, Mabel."

Mabel smiled innocently, but wisely got Ford back into the car as Stan waved Dipper back into the passenger seat of his.

They left Pacifica standing there, but she was more at peace than she had been for the past three years. There was no doubt in her mind now - she was meant to be friends with Dipper and Mabel. In a loose kind of way.

And at least she'd gotten Dipper's cell phone number out of it. Even if she did put it under 'Lord Princeton,' just in case her parents skimmed over her contact list.

* * *

"...And when the green puppet," Mabel was saying from her place behind the kitchen table, "wants the red puppet and the blue puppet to make out," she pressed her two puppet-topped fingers together, while the large green hand puppet was moved around in a way suggesting excitement, "then that makes the green puppet a shipper. Shippers, on occasion, name their ships. This could happen in different ways, including combining the names of the people being shipped, finding something from each and adding the word 'shipping' to it, or any other method that they think fits. For example, if I take Dipper and Pacifica's names - no offense, Dipper, I just want to clear things up and using real people is the easiest method - and combine them, I'd get Dipcifica, Dipifica, Padipica, or other variations." She got to her feet and called her partner in crime forward. "Now time for a different example. Soos, back in the late sixties or early seventies, when Stan third-wheeled Ford and Caroline..."

"He became a shipper of..." Soos thought for a moment, then added, "Fordline? I dunno, I just came up with that one."

"So alternatives could be PlantScienceshipping, since that's what they had in common. Or Cryptobotanyshipping." She made the green puppet slump as a thoughtful look crossed her own face. "That one actually sounds pretty cool. We should make a claim for a fictional character ship with that one."

"But what fictional character would want to deal with plants?" Soos asked, not seeming to notice that Stan, Ford and Dipper were all staring in unconcealed horror. "How could we do this?"

Mabel looked back at the puppets, then up at Soos. "Movie night?" she suggested, wiggling all three puppets as if they were casting their own votes. "Ford does need to see a certain one with a time machine DeLorean, maybe we could throw a few superhero movies in. _Somebody's_ got to have the power of plant control."

And, the puppet show abandoned just before the conclusion, they went to search the internet for illegal movie downloads.

Ford removed his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve, and returned them to his face. It was no good, he could still see the papers of her explanation. "And I thought Bill was horrifying," he commented, heaving himself out of the chair. "I never should have told her that story."

"At least she knows that ship is sunk." Dipper picked the script off the floor, tucking it under one arm so she could use it again. The thought scared him, but she might want to use them as background pages in a scrapbook or something. "Pacifica and I never really got to talk, that was a 'get used to their presence' experience after we decided we'd try to take the awkward out of our awkward friendship." Well, they'd talked through the film, and only about half of it was commentary, but he really didn't see the point in mentioning that.

"And yet you're...what was it?" Stan grinned. "Right. _Padipperca,_ or something like that. Heh."

Dipper patted the paper stack. "All for pretending this horrifying experience never happened?" Both grunkles voiced their agreement instantly. "Good. Then it never happened, and anyone who says otherwise gets pushed into the bottomless pit."

And, to prove his point, he carried the papers into the kitchen. There was the sound of something glass being placed on a countertop, and then the sound of a boy striking a match.

He couldn't bring himself to burn the papers. Instead, he just watched the stick turn to ash.

Being shipped with Pacifica didn't sound like the worst thing ever. And that thought was the thought that was the scariest of them all.


	4. Little Shack of Horrors

**Goodbye, Gravity Falls. You have inspired us much more than this one story, in ways that words can't express. And though we abandoned canon before we started, we know we couldn't have done it any better. We were right about every single wheel character, but it took us by surprise how Bill was really defeated. Well done, Hirsch and crew.**

 **Sadness aside, now is when the action begins. Just keep in mind that I am really bad at writing fight scenes, and consider this practice.**

The plant didn't look scary. It looked like a typical flytrap specimen, though Dipper would admit that he'd never seen one that tall, or with a trap as big as his head. The trap was closed, for the moment, and Dipper wondered how many bugs it could hold at once.

"Where did you find this?" he asked, looking away from the plant to silently accuse Stan of bringing in actual supernatural threats.

"Found it," Stan replied, almost defensively. 'Found' probably translated to 'stole,' then. He seemed to know what Dipper was thinking, and quickly explained that it wasn't. "I thought I'd help old Sixer out with something. Just help me get this thing to the basement, will ya?"

"Grunkle Ford," Mabel called into the TV room. "Stan's using journal stuff as an attraction."

"I wouldn't dream of it, kid. The sooner this thing gets out of the house, the better."

Ford wasn't happy to be interrupted for yet another one of his brother's antics. "Was it really necessary to interrupt the science channel? I was making corrections for their discussion on -" He then took a look at the creature, and the younger twins could see the fear in his eyes. "Have you lost your mind? That thing is a living garbage disposal, we can't let the kids play in it!"

"We're almost sixteen," Dipper tried protesting, but Ford gestured at the plant.

"I wasn't talking about you and Mabel, I was talking about the tourists! The one condition I had when I let Stan keep this whole 'business' thing going was that my research stays in the basement where it belongs."

"Actually," Stan pointed out, "your one condition was that you only get involved when somebody gets close to finding something the public isn't ready to see." Seeing Ford's anger intensify, Stan playfully punched his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Ford. You know me better than that, it was supposed to be a present for you. Since I didn't get you anything for our birthday."

Dipper and Mabel saw the war in their other grunkle's head. The idea of more research was clearly warring with his instinct to point out that their birthday was several months ago, and that they'd agreed that they were too old for such nonsense. Finally, after a few moments of fishing for words, Ford found the ones he was looking for.

"It's too big to fit in the elevator," he started, "but if we keep watch over it, we should be fine as long as we put up a safety line. I'll be guarding it constantly, and if I have something else to do, Dipper can do it." He grew even more serious. "We're only keeping it for a week. After that, we get rid of it."

There was no hesitation at all in the rest of the family's agreement.

* * *

Dave leaned over the plant, excitement so strong it was almost like a heartbeat, and reached over with the stick. Phil, from his safe position behind Ford, seemed much more reluctant to get close.

"The safety line's there for a reason," he tried pointing out, his hands shaking. The almost-minty scent of vampire burned his nose a little - it was his first encounter with one, and it took some time to get used to. It wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been in wolf form, though, so he focused on that to keep himself from shifting in self-defense. "You're an adult, shouldn't it be me who's trying to poke it with a stick?"

Dave looked away from the plant, his previous enthusiasm gone. "I'm a scientist, kid," he told him. "And I'm conducting an experiment."

Ford wasn't fooled. Apparently, neither was Phil. "You're a nighttime security guard at the Gravity Falls museum," the teenager pointed out, and Dave gave him that world-famous Dad Look.

"Fine," he said after a moment. "Call me an amateur historian with a bad allergy to sunlight. But I've never even heard of these things before, so I'm conducting an experiment like a scientist."

And, before anyone could stop him, he jabbed the sharp end of the stick right into the plant's sticky trap. Instantly, the plant snapped closed over the object, and the vampire watched in pure fascination as it choked down the entire stick.

"And he touched it," Ford stated unnecessarily. It was harder than it should have been for him to keep an eye on three supernatural creatures at once. Maybe he was starting to fail in his old age...but he'd been old in the portal, so maybe it was the unpredictability of the plant and Dave's apparent desperation to play with it. "You've seen it, Dave, you can go home now."

"Where did your brother find it?" Dave asked, pretending not to hear the underlying order. He could feel that the invitation into the house had been revoked, but he'd already entered. "I thought you and your nephew were the ones behind the supernatural investigations."

"And the plant is supposed to be for observation only. But here we are." Ford turned the advertising sign around - _Professor Poindexter's Processing Plant! Give the environment what the environment gives you! Only $20! *Money is to be paid to the cash register, not the plant -_ and once again told himself that some part of him knew what he'd be getting into when he'd allowed Stan to stay.

"What else does it eat?" Phil asked, leaning over the line out of his own curiosity.

Ford pulled him back effortlessly. "Anything that doesn't move," he repeated. "Living things aren't on the menu, but it's unnaturally drawn to fire. And, apparently, to Stan's hat."

It had been funny the first time. Stan was casually leading a troop of tourists along, when they'd spotted the plant sitting in a fenced-in area right outside the gift shop window. Stan had tried to keep the group away from it, but a small child had fed it a candy wrapper before he could stop him, and Stan demanding that the mother pay for any possible damages had turned into people assuming they could pay to recycle their non-recyclable garbage. Stan had, eventually, caved, and it had snapped its maw down on top of the fez, only letting go when Stan moving it around hit the reflex that released living prisoners. Ford had winded himself laughing.

Don't get him wrong, though. It got old fast.

"Not too bright, are they?" Dipper asked, taking his place as plant guard so that Ford could go and eat.

"I didn't think my second official mission as your tracking dog would be babysitting this thing," Phil said in complete agreement.

The plant snapped at Dave, but he backed away and left the house, giving the boys a passing warning to light a candle or something.

Mabel appeared moments after he left, her necktie purse slung over one shoulder. "All right, here's the deal. I fit three of Stan's guns, six cloves of garlic, nineteen silver bullets - not for your family, Phil, don't worry - and five compact mirrors, all in this bag. I don't know about you guys, but I think I can make a pretty good pack mule. Who's ready to find that centaur I hit with the car?"

* * *

Every single one of the Pines family in the Shack was together for breakfast the next morning, a rare occurrence for Ford at least. Mabel had woken up early, and, unable to go back to sleep, started making pancakes and bacon. Then she'd woken her brother and each had claimed a grunkle, and the usual insanity had begun.

It started with a scientific examination of her pancakes.

"Are they supposed to be this colorful?" Ford asked uncertainly, prodding the pancake with his fork.

"I put candy-coated chocolates in them, so I'd say yes." Mabel slurped from her cup of orange juice - Stan had banned 'Mabel juice' and all variants, and for good reason. "It's just candy, Grunkle Ford. It's edible."

"Candy that looks like mold," Stan grunted, before scratching his armpit as if no one was watching. He decided to skip the bacon and was just poking the rest of his breakfast with a fork, mirroring his twin's every movement.

"What's wrong Grunkle Stan? Want more bacon?" Mabel asked as she poured more of the meat onto her grunkle's plate.

Stan shoved the plate back at her. "I've been on the in-ter-net and discovered that bacon grease is more likely to kill you than being shot in the head. Why isn't bacon illegal and yet I'm not legally allowed to own loaded guns?"

Ford immediately started listing those very reasons. "You have no gun license for Stanley Pines, you're a wanted criminal under your name and mine, and something being illegal has never stopped you before." He leaned across the small table to check his brother's pupils. "Have you lost your mind, or did somebody take it?"

"He seems pretty in-character to me," Dipper commented through half-closed eyes. "Maybe refusing bacon is just a phase."

And then he downed half of his cup of coffee in one chug, caring little for the heat or the bitterness and just dying for the caffeine. He must have stayed up late again.

"I'm too old for a phase, kid," Stan insisted. "I just don't want to die of a heart attack, is that wrong?"

That seemed to do it. Ford and Mabel made brief, uncomfortable eye contact, and then Ford stood up to retreat to the lab, passing her whispered instructions on his way out under pretense of an awkward hug. Dipper snapped to attention at that, but Mabel was already following.

"Do you think the plant could brainwash Stan?" Mabel asked, the minute the vending machine closed behind them.

"It could be. I never thought that it was anything more than a mutated cousin of the flytraps you're used to, but the fact is I never finished studying the last specimen before it went and killed itself."

"It _killed_ itself?" Mabel asked, staring in disbelief. "What could drive a plant to suicide?"

"I don't know. Poor intelligence, most likely. It ate a lit candle and didn't seem to process that fire is bad for its health."

"So we kill it with fire," she suggested.

"I'm usually more of a shoot-it-between-the-eyes type," Ford said with a smile, "but the week is nearly over. We'll pay closer attention to the plant, and to Stan, and see where it takes us."

"Do you think eating meat will cure his potential brainwashing?"

Ford wasn't much of a professional botanist himself. There was the interest, certainly, but unless it had a connection to the man-eating plants of legend, or the mythical sheep stalk, he wasn't very concerned. Plants, for the most part, didn't move around much, and as long as he knew where the roots were he could always investigate after he'd captured whatever _was_ capable of leaving. "Feeding a Venus flytrap hamburger meat will kill it. I don't want to try that on Stanley."

"But what _can_ we try on Stan?"

For that, there was no answer. "When your brother wakes up a bit more, bring him down to the lab. We'll need all three of us together on this one."

* * *

"So it's a carnivorous plant?" Pacifica asked, standing on the very edge of the safety line that Ford had put up...and that Dipper had put a gate around after Robbie had dared Thompson to cross it mere moments earlier, an act that got both of them put in a time-out. "Like an overgrown Venus flytrap?"

"Not quite," Dipper corrected. "You can kill a household flytrap by feeding it hamburger bits, or garbage for that matter. We were going to classify this as an extreme omnivore, but it can't hold down a spider and doesn't really like fruits or vegetables."

"It's like in that old musical," Candy said, leaning on the fence to get a good look. "Can I call it Audrey III?"

"It doesn't eat people, Candy. Living organisms struggle too much."

"It _looks_ like Audrey II."

Pacifica lifted her hand, reaching over the line, and barely pulled it away as the plant snapped at her. "So does it do _anything_ besides eat? Like, backflips, maybe?"

"It sits there," Grenda pointed out. "That's something."

Pacifica's teeth clicked together. "Words can't describe how stupid that sounded."

Dipper stepped in before Grenda could use her fists to show exactly how stupid she thought Pacifica was. "We're actually keeping it because we need to study it."

"So why did six-fingers just disappear like that?" Pacifica asked, and Dipper struggled to find the right words for it.

"Mabel was babysitting Stan and called him in for backup." There, the answer was short and blunt. Enough for Pacifica to still care when he'd finished. "They're trying to fix something that we all hope isn't broken."

Pacifica gently brushed all of her hair over one shoulder, pulling it free of her earring's grip. "And he's running these tests on his brother instead of the plant?"

"His brother might be the plant." When all three girls wore identical expressions of pure 'what,' he clarified, "Stan's hat almost got eaten, and there might be some kind of acid or spores affecting his brain. We're keeping a closer eye on Stan for now, but we don't want to get rid of the plant before -"

Dipper stopped mid-sentence, and even Robbie and Thompson turned to the 'house' section of the Shack, where they could hear the sounds of a scuffle and a pair of old men shouting at each other. Strangely, they also heard a shrill whistle.

"Mabel's the referee," Grenda guessed. She wasn't completely off the mark.

"She's also there to cover Stan's mouth so he has to swallow the experimental potions," Dipper finished. "I'm here to look after this thing."

"Audrey III," Candy piped in.

"Right. I'm making sure that Audrey III doesn't eat anything else. Not even empty plastic bags."

Audrey III leaned forward, snapping at Pacifica again, just because she was in closest proximity. She reacted this time by making a short scissor motion.

And that was when Audrey III made a loud howling noise.

"Great," Grenda said, lightly bumping Pacifica with her shoulder and sending the smaller girl staggering. "You made it angry."

* * *

Mabel didn't know her friends were here, of course. They'd made plans to head over to the mall and people-watch, maybe look for boys that, well, weren't Dipper and Phil. Pacifica hadn't been invited, and would have turned down the invitation if she had, which made Candy and Grenda wonder why she'd bothered to come.

But that was not Mabel's current worry.

"Come on, Grunkle Stan," she begged, putting on her biggest puppy eyes. This was the reason Ford had chosen her over her brother: she may be outgrowing the 'cute' card, but it still had a little bit of time left, and she'd get to play the 'poor me' card forever. "You already took a bite. Can't you finish it?"

"I told you, I'm cutting meat from my diet. Too greasy for a man in his sixties."

"Feed him again," Ford commanded, tightening the ropes securing Stan to the chair.

"Alright, alright!" Stan shouted. "I guess I have to chew my way out of this."

They thought he wasn't dumb enough to do it when there were two people very skilled in restraining things watching over him. They thought he knew that they were doing this for his own good.

They were wrong.

Stan managed to gnaw his way through the rope, a lifetime of criminal activity paying off once again. Ford, never out of plans for long, tackled his brother and held his head over a taco.

"For the last time," Stan said before throwing his brother down. "I'm fine."

Ford got to his feet and picked up the partially-eaten burger, which was not actually made of real meat but of a substitute Dipper, Ford and McGucket had worked on nonstop over the last two days. "Are you, Stan?" he challenged, holding the sandwich as if it were a weapon. "You don't look fine to me."

That was an understatement. Stan seemed to have gotten a few inches taller, a few pounds thinner, and even a few of his wrinkles had faded. But the most noticeable change wasn't one that people would find attractive.

"Grunkle Stan, you're turning green!" Mabel shouted in astonishment.

Stan looked down at his hands immediately. "Huh," he said, not sounding too panicked by this new development. "That's weird."

"Get the flamethrower, Mabel." Ford took a fighting stance in front of the door. "This might get serious."

That seemed to be the trigger. Stan's transformation into a plant slave jumped to completion, and his rough voice took on a much smoother echo.

"If you want to play, Sixer," he said slowly, "then may the best man win."

"Hey, old farts! What's with the fence around the -" Robbie stopped mid-sentence, having chosen the wrong moment to complain to the Shack owners. And then he let out a short, high-pitched scream.

Mabel, being Mabel, forced a smile. "They're not that ugly, are they?"

"Mabel," Ford warned, and she at least pretended she was sorry for saying it.

Robbie was quickly backing out toward the door, but he wasn't completely gone. He seemed to be treating this like a really scary horror movie - you know you'll end up wetting yourself if you look too long, but you can't look away. "You look like a monster, Mr. Pines. Are you putting yourself on display next?"

Mabel gave him the final shove he needed to turn around. "You have all the tact of a dead butterfly, Robbie. I do battle with my uncles my own way." She snatched a bike helmet from what seemed like nowhere and plopped it down on her head. "Tactical defense, Ford! Man the battleships!"

* * *

As the brainwashed Stan attacked Mabel and Ford, Dipper found himself facing down the main plant, with only Pacifica and Robbie for assistance - Candy and Grenda had gone down to Ford's room, under orders to find any weapon they could get their hands on and bring it back for the others.

If anyone was watching, it would appear that Stan and the plant made the same moves, ducking and pouncing at the same time. Stan used his fists and the plant used its trap, but for all purposes, it was perfectly synchronized. It had even torn down the fence as Stan had nearly gotten Ford in the face.

It was too bad everybody was not watching, instead taking the proper route of fearing for their lives.

"And what are we supposed to do until they get back?" Pacifica demanded, holding the chair from behind the register like she was a lion tamer. The plant leaned forward, almost as if it were sniffing her hair, and she swung the stool like a caveman would swing a club, making the creature bleed a milky-white substance.

Pacifica Northwest was physically fighting, not just facing a fear and pulling a lever. It was the single most incredible thing Dipper had ever seen, and he meant that in a completely non-romantic way.

He shoved that thought aside for now. "Don't worry. Candy and Grenda know how to work most of the stuff down in Ford's lab. We'll probably have to change the code, but -"

"Holy sap, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel's voice screeched. "It had babies in his hair! They probably put roots down in his brain!"

"Of course it did," Ford said, somewhere between frustrated and disappointed. "That must be how it continues its line, then - makes seeds, plants them in a host and lets the shoots kill and feed on the victim. Forget the meat, get the garden hose and a bottle of shampoo! We're going to have to bathe my brother to save his life."

"Hey, I bathe myself!" Stan shouted, and the monster plant momentarily returned to its dormant state.

There was a second of silence in both battles. "He's still in there!" Mabel squeaked. "Fight it, Stan! I'll be right back!"

She ran out the door and up to the bathroom, but Stan's shouts of anger and disgust continued. Thompson dared to take a peek.

"One of your uncles is pouring taco meat on the other's head," he said slowly, as if he still didn't understand that the Pines family weren't entirely normal.

Audrey III returned to its tantrum, then, and if Dipper had been paying attention to anything other than the monster plant and the blonde warrior trying and failing to beat it into submission, he might have noticed that she wasn't the only one who had changed since that first summer.

Robbie, though still holding the coat hanger he'd taken to using as a sword in case the beast got too close, reached into the pocket of his years-old heart hoodie. He ducked behind Dipper and Pacifica for coverage, waited until the monster opened its mouth to strike the boy this time, and tossed it over Dipper's shoulder.

The plant really wasn't too bright. It went for the moving item, gulping it down and never processing that its digestive fluids, while advanced enough to dissolve plastic, were very, very flammable.

The last sound the beast ever made was a loud _fwoosh._ Three seconds later, the whole thing was up in flames.

Dipper, who had been using the fire extinguisher as a blunt weapon, pulled the trigger on the bottle. With mild surprise when the proper foam came out (Stan must have put in real ones to clean up Ford's experimental messes) he started spraying the quickly-charring monster with as much force as it was capable of generating, until the husk was completely covered.

There was a small squeak from somewhere behind him. Pacifica was focused on the remains, for a given definition of 'focus,' and she was torn between crying and laughing in relief.

"It...it wasn't funny," she said, managing to keep her composure like a true Northwest, "but we're all still alive...and it actually _ate a lit match..._ "

"I'm impressed Robbie didn't wet himself," Dipper commented, to Robbie's natural objection. "How did you know fire would kill it?"

"I didn't." Robbie walked past the 'Do Not Cross' line and stomped on the plant for a final insult. "I had the matches for a campfire and decided to give it a shot."

"And it's pretty cool to see things ignite," Pacifica added.

Robbie pretended to ignore her, turning back to Thompson. "Well, we're free to go," he said, looking around. "Let's go see if we can set something else on fire."

"Hooray for arson!" Thompson cheered, racing out the door.

And, with a nod of recognition, Robbie left the building, just as Mabel and Ford carried a dizzy, confused Stan around the corner.

Mabel's eyes flicked from Dipper to Pacifica, but she wisely chose not to comment on that. "Did you get it?"

* * *

They agreed to keep an even closer eye on Stan, and Ford admitted that he should have forced the stupid thing into the basement even with the size. Stan was forced to stay in bed for almost a week, and Ford never once came to talk.

On the other hand, Stan did wake up to find a plate of cold bacon with six greasy fingerprints on one side, as if Ford was trying to get the remains of it off without taking time out of his busy day to wash his hands.

"Don't hold it against Ford," Mabel said, when she herself came to apologize for tying Stan to a chair. "He's a...how did you say it? An emotionally-constipated nerd. It's the portal incident all over again. He's giving himself time to beat himself up over bad decisions and wants you to do the same."

"It was his fault the thing stayed upstairs."

"Yes, but he _did_ put safety lines on it, and we _did_ think it wasn't harmful to humans because it couldn't choke down a spider." _And you were the one who brought it home in the first place, but that was because it pollinated your brain. Maybe it got the rest of us, too, just later on and we've all taken taco showers._

The two sat there in silence, Stan chewing on his cold bacon and Mabel pleased that he would be fine in the end.

"So what did the plant want?" she asked suddenly, and Stan stopped mid-chew.

"What was that?"

"You don't have to tell me," Mabel promised. "I just thought you might know something, it sounded like a hive-mind thing there."

Stan swallowed, only partly to carry the bacon mash to its final fate. "I don't think it wanted anything. Just a place to grow its freak babies." He handed her the plate. "Nuke that for me, would ya? Tastes like fart."

As Mabel went back to her attic bedroom that night (Dipper had taken the break room this time, for 'teenage privacy restrictions,' and Ford had a whole second basement to himself after a strange bonfire that got the cops called) she heard Stan call back, "And tell my idiot brother that his cooking sucks!"

The thump that was definitely a thick book slamming into the ceiling/floor told them both that Ford had heard it anyway.


End file.
